Queens of the Stone Age - Era Vulgaris

After a mixed reception to 2005's Oliveri-less sequel to the impeccable modern rock n' roll grandeur that was Songs For the Deaf, time could spell redundancy to the same initial fanboy caution which was largely exercised prior to the surfacing of Lullabies to Paralyze.

Given the sheer weight of the Queens' first three LPs - not to mention the Gamma Ray session blueprint that set up their "robot rock" aesthetic - for some quarters, the knee-jerk comparisons will always remain impossible to shake: there is nothing quite so satisfyingly dirty as Mexicola or as schizophrenic as Song For the Dead rearing its head out from the ruckus, though the steamrollering prowess of Sick, Sick, Sick does to a fair degree succeed in compacting some of those, lets be honest, vital ingredients into a mere three minutes.

Elsewhere, other than the easygoing swing jam of Suture Up Your Future and Stones-like swagger of token Desert Sessions re-dux number Make It Wit Chu, Era Vulgaris largely abandons the rugged blues of its predecessor and burrows itself into a hive of blaring psychedelia. Whereas the low end touch on the cowbell-centric Little Sister proved to be lacking so much that the song was resultantly rendered forgettable, the addictive, stuttering industrial clang on Misfit Love returns it and that undeniable, unmistakable level of benchmark quality from Queens of the Stone Age forthright to our speakers.

At times the fruits of this LP appear to be of an entirely new substance, on other occasions it's more just a variant (but that's never to say diluted) blend of Josh's Marvellous Medicine (see current single 3's and 7's); with Into the Hollow Homme and Chris Goss almost ape Mark Lanegan (a voice strangely buried in the mix later on River In the Road) and somewhere in the darkness an undetermined member of personnel even barks and snarls in the spirit of Oliveri when the mood takes them. This throws up the hair splitting issue of who exactly is involved beyond the static crew of Homme, Troy Van Leeuwen and Joey Castillo these days, although after three or four listens, once the many twists in the rollercoaster truly grab hold, this issue quickly plummets into insignificance.

Although it's almost alien to hear the Queens directly acknowledge a world outside of their own demented desert dwelling, now Turning on the Screw and I'm Designer suddenly poke away at the wants of their detractors. This overall willingness to wear new threads with well broken-in shoes is what sees the album pull itself back into line with a predominantly outstanding legacy and quite possibly turn a few of those suspicious, critical heads back in their direction.